


And I, You – Loyal Follower

by ClownheadMcFucker



Category: The Secret Saturdays
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Stream of Consciousness, Unrequited Love, Vague Spoilers, character analysis that happens to be taking place while sex is also happening, like only vaguely though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 17:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClownheadMcFucker/pseuds/ClownheadMcFucker
Summary: Munya is loyal to Argost without a fault. He never questions orders. Though he would be lying if he said that meant he didn’t do any contemplative thinking about his master either.





	And I, You – Loyal Follower

Munya is loyal to Argost without a fault. He never questions orders. Though he would be lying if he said that meant he didn’t do any contemplative thinking about his master either.   
In particular, Munya contemplates how much time his master spends trying to appear human: hiding his true features, altering his speech, adopting human cultures and behaviors. Day in, day out behind a mask. But of course, Argost cannot mask his instincts. Those animal instincts, those urges. On occasion, Munya even contemplates the irony: Argost had the ability to turn Munya, a once normal man, into a perfect beast, but could not turn himself, a beast, into a perfect human. 

Munya is loyal to Argost without a fault. He will follow Argost no matter which part of himself he is acting on. Human or beast. It makes no difference to Munya. 

* 

Munya takes mental note of what needs to be picked up off the floor in a few minutes: Two pens, a skull, some assorted papers, a handful of loose bills of various countries’ currency, a now broken bottle of ink — a very difficult stain to get out of the Persian rug. The things Argost haphazardly knocked off the desk he is currently sitting on top of while Munya strokes him off.   
Munya takes mental note of what ingredients he will need to go out and get later in order to prepare dinner: sunflower oil, some thyme, garlic, and the meat of course. He takes note of the “exceptional blandness” Argost scolded him for the last time he cooked rabbit. Munya will have to taste and make corrections to the recipe this time. Something to do with his mouth when it is not otherwise occupied as it is currently; kneeling in front of Argost and taking the brute of his claws on Munya’s scalp. 

Munya is Loyal to Argost without a fault. And Munya is an excellent multitasker. 

On more intense days nothing can seem to state Argost. Munya listens to his moans. Watches the muscles in Argost’s back twisting and tightening beneath his sweat-smoothed fur. A lot of the moaning — Munya assumes — is, for lack of a better word, forced. Times like these Argost is always louder, always in such a frenzy to find the satisfaction he craves that he’ll scream and contort in what seems more out of the thought that doing so will bring him closer to an ending than doing so out of any real pleasure.   
Munya listens to his moans and he cannot focus on any multitasking. He cannot think.   
He can barely even contemplate. 

Munya is not a complainer, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t make it hard for him. 

The moaning makes it so much harder. So much harder to resist wracking his hands through that white, white fur. Or better yet to wrack his nails across his master’s back and watch the little red lines of irritation form on the skin beneath — like tracks on freshly fallen snow.   
To resist the urge to grab his master’s long hair and yank it as hard as he can. How soft and silky it feels wrapped around his fingers as he pulls it. How satisfying it is to hear that little crick in his master’s neck when he wrenches his head back just right. Perfect. The perfect angle for a kiss. But he does resist because those are things Munya wants to do, they are not things he was ordered to do. 

Munya is loyal to Argost without a fault. His orders were to help satisfy his master, nothing more, nothing less, and nothing to do with Munya’s own wants. 

Munya wants it be making love in the soft light of his master’s bedroom, but it isn’t, it is nothing more than raw, animal fucking — which is really, only coincidentally, taking place in his master’s bedroom which is, at the moment, rather softly lit.   
Munya feels Argost’s cock stir in his hand, snapping him out of his thoughts of selfish wants. Argost’s moans become more drawn out as he comes into Munya’s hand. Not a lot and he is still as hard as before, but Munya stops, awaits further instruction. Argost lies there, panting, huffing. He barely appears to have the strength left to hold himself up anymore.   
Munya pulls out and sits back before a clawed hand whips out to grasp his forearm.   
“Have you gone deaf now?”   
Munya freezes as Argost slowly rolls himself over, facing Munya now he speaks slowly, breathing between words, “didn’t you hear me?”   
So lost in thought, Munya apparently had not. His master speaks deliberately “Keep. Going.” 

Munya is loyal without a fault, but loyalty comes with a small paradox. Loyalty means never questioning orders, but loyalty also means protection. And sometimes protection is questioning orders.

Munya sits still for a moment and considers suggesting that they take a break, give his master a little time to rest, perhaps drink some water or eat something. But the grip on Munya’s forearm tells him that suggestion will only be met with fire, and more than that, Munya does not want to stop.  
Looking into the eyes of the man he so thoughtlessly obeyed, his chest heaving gracefully, thin legs wrapped loosely around his waist, strands of soft hair strewn over his sharp features Munya can only think about what he wants so badly.  
He hoists one his master’s legs above his shoulder and thrusts hard, bringing his whole length into him again and again with a brutal, unwavering pace.   
It isn’t long before he is reaching his climax, holding out for that burst of pleasure. This isn’t about Munya, this isn’t for Munya, this is about orders, and he wasn’t ordered to enjoy it like this, but it can’t hurt to just give in for a few seconds. That’s right, Munya thinks, it can’t hurt to just give in to the pleasure of his orgasm for just a single second, so fleeting, it can’t hurt. But evidently, he is wrong. In that moment, with his face buried in Argost’s soft neck, Munya lets the words slip.  
“I love you.” 

The sleepiness of post orgasm vanishes instantly when he realizes what he has said, replaced with a heaviness in his gut, and a cold sweat.   
He waits frozen in silence for what seems like forever, mentally berating himself. How could he let himself lose control like that? But it was just a grunt, just a whisper. But, god, he really said it out loud didn’t he? He disobeyed his orders, this was not what his master asked for, this was not about Munya, this was not for Munya, this was not about his pleasure or his wants, this was about orders, this was about his master, this was not  
His thoughts are interrupted by a quiet chuckle. Argost turns toward him and extends his hand to Munya’s face. Looking for the first time in days, satisfied with his tired eyes smiling, he says,   
“And I, you. Je t’aime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Been messing around with this fic for a few years (when I first started there were no tags for Munya or Argost at all ahh) and I finally feel like it's organized enough for posting, despite still being pretty sloppy. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic. I just have a lot of feelings for these gross old monsters.


End file.
